Crossroad

It’s not often that I am at a loss for words. It’s even less often that events leave me at a loss for emotion. Yet I found myself in such a state on the evening of May 18, 2012. On that brisk spring night, I reached an intersection of euphoria and anguish. 

Readers of this blog have been aware for sometime that I have been working on a new commissioned work for the Atlanta Ballet. The past several blog entries have, in fact, been devoted exclusively to describing my collaborative process with choreographer Tara Lee and composing for the ballet. I also had alluded to the fact that I would be missing the premiere performances of my work because of my residency at the MacDowell Artists Colony. Missing the premiere was not the cause of my anguish, however. Far from it.

Exterior of my studio, Sprague Smith, at the
MacDowell Colony

Being a Fellow at the MacDowell Colony was one of the most rewarding experiences of my career to date. It’s hard to put into words how stimulating it was to be in such a creative environment. The property is draped in beauty and stillness and as such, I found it easy to focus on my work. My days were devoted exclusively to writing music. I wasn’t even interrupted for lunch. A basket simply appeared around noon daily without fanfare containing a delicious meal. Equally stimulating to creativity was my interaction with the other brilliant Fellows residing with me at the colony. These Fellows were from varied disciplines and thus I was surrounded by writers, poets, film makers, visual artists and, of course, other composers whose company I found to be quite inspiring. I learned a great deal through casual conversations over meals as well as at “formal” presentations of respective colonists’ work.

From "Pavo," dancers Christine Winkler and John Welker.
Photo by CHARLIE MCCULLERS

On the evening of May 18, I was still in residence at MacDowell and was spending the evening, as I had for the past two weeks, in my studio, Sprague Smith. On that very same evening, the premiere of my ballet piece, Pavo, was taking place back in Atlanta. I was elated by a steady stream of text messages from the musicians letting me know how things were going. The premiere seemed to have been very well-received. Although disappointed to be missing the performances, my disappointment was largely offset by a warm feeling of satisfaction knowing that the reason for my absence was due to my residency at MacDowell. It was one of those rare moments for a composer where all the hard work seemed to be paying off. It wasn’t just a single great premiere but the simultaneity of the premiere and my MacDowell residency that made me feel good about my career in general. 

Yet, earlier that same day, I received a phone call from my wife informing me that my mother was in serious medical condition and that I needed to cut my residency short and return home immediately. I could not get a flight back to Atlanta until May 19 and therefore found myself in my studio at MacDowell that Friday evening at the intersection of euphoria and anguish. It was a curious feeling to have such extremes occurring literally at the same time: the aforementioned joy about my residency and premiere coupled with anguished worry about what was going on at home. 

Interior of my studio at MacDowell.

For a long while, I lay motionless on my bed with a thousand thoughts and emotions swirling inside of me. At one point, I literally became numb. Then, almost without thinking, a got up and went to my desk and began writing. I had nearly completed the movement I was working on when I received the news from home and decided that I needed to finish my work before journeying home. It may seem like an odd reaction to everything going on at that moment. However, in retrospect, I think that that is where creative artists sometimes live: at the crossroad of joy and sadness; euphoria and anguish. 

It’s been several weeks now since my time at MacDowell and the premiere of Pavo. As of this writing, the summer looks like it will be a difficult one for my family and myself. However, I take solace both in my Faith as well as in the warm memories of MacDowell and my collaboration with Tara Lee, the musicians, and everyone at the Atlanta Ballet. It is also not lost upon me, after thinking about things for a few weeks, that on the evening of May 18, I not only experienced both joy and sadness but somehow found the strength to rise up from my bed and get to work. 

That’s the thing about being at a crossroad. One usually does not stay there. However, which way you proceed makes all the difference. 

Is It Modern?

Fifth in a series on my collaboration with the Atlanta Ballet.

The premiere of Pavo is only seven days away. Since posting my last article, I have made some tweaks to the score based on feedback from Tara and have attended two very productive rehearsals with the musicians. Today, dancers and live music will be put together for the first time. Ironically, I will be waiting for texts, phone calls or email messages to learn how rehearsals went. The same goes for the actual performances themselves. This is because I am writing this blog entry from the serene beauty of the MacDowell Colony in Peterborough, New Hampshire. I will not complete my residency here until after all five performances of Pavo have taken place.

The fabulous musicians of Pavo: (L-R): Jan Berry Baker
(sax); Michael Celbuski (perc.) & Charae Krueger (cello)

How is this possible? It is simply a result of timing. My commission from the Ballet came after I had already been awarded the Fellowship and residency. I will write about my experiences at the MacDowell Colony in a later blog entry. For now, I thought I would touch on something that I have rarely discussed in this series: the actual music for Pavo. In past articles, I have commented on issues of collaboration as well as developing a dramatic narrative and theme for the piece. I have been keenly aware throughout the process that music is not the central aspect of the work. People are paying money to see wonderful dancers, breathtaking choreography as well as beautiful costumes and set design. Yet, without the music none of the above would be possible. I’m reminded of the comic scene in the film Amadeus (1984) where Emperor Joseph II attends a rehearsal of one of Mozart’s operas. Mozart had written a scene incorporating ballet expressly against the wishes of the monarch. Instead of cutting the scene, the composer instructs the dancers to perform their choreographed steps in utter silence. The perplexed emperor looks on and asks, “Is it modern?”

Our incredible D.J., Jen Mitchell

Clearly, the music is important. For this particular work, the music is also unusual in two basic ways. The first has to do with instrumentation. I began work on the score with an ensemble largely selected by Tara. Coming from a background of dance, Tara was not tied down to established chamber music norms. We were given a budget to accommodate four performers and Tara simply selected instruments that were attractive to her. She had some help by visiting my website and hearing some of the chamber pieces I had written prior to this collaboration. This is how we arrived at the unusual combination of saxophone (soprano doubling on alto), cello, percussion and, most intriguing, a D.J.

Detail from the score.

Luckily, I had written a short piece a few years ago for clarinet, violin and D.J. so I had some inkling of how to proceed. The trick is in writing music that can exist on top of electronic dance tracks and feel as though it belongs with the underlying groove. As I wrote lines for the instruments, I had to imagine how they would interact with more complex grooves underneath. I trusted that Jen Mitchell (our D.J.) would be able to select tracks in the same key centers as the music I was writing. That’s why I like working with a good D.J. like Jen. She is used to matching tracks based on key and is also able to adjust tempi as well. In short, D.Js. like Jen have to use their ears as well as any “traditional” musician. However, there is more than simply matching tempo and key center. The grooves have to allow space for the instrumentalists. Otherwise, the piece could feel like poor karaoke. This issue was solved by writing music in the upper ranges of the instruments and by Jen’s careful selection of tracks with a deep bass and little high resonances on top to interfere with what the instrumentalists were doing.

Tara follows along & keeps us
 on track during rehearsal!

Another issue we encountered had to do with the phrasing of musical ideas. I usually do not write music with phrases that are symmetrical. Because virtually all groove-oriented music is in recurring 4 or 8 measure phrases, my instrumental lines continually move in and out of phase with the tracks. The underlying tempo remains constant but the resulting combination feels like a very hip hemiola. Fortunately, the dancers in the company are all very hip themselves and this phasing does not throw them off!

The other non-traditional aspect of the piece is its overall structure. As mentioned in some detail in my last article, the dramatic narrative of Pavo demanded a five-movement scheme played continuously without pause. There is nothing unusual about this. What is a bit non-standard is the fact that the more energetic music, including the aforementioned groove-oriented combination of D.J. and instrumentalists, occurs in the first half of the 18-minute work. The piece concludes with a slower, lyrical section. Typically, music is not structured moving from fast to slow. More often, it is exactly the reverse. I must admit to feeling a bit of pressure to write music powerful enough to make for a satisfying ending. After hearing the computer realization of the piece for the first time, Tara was quick to point out that this structure works. I’m grateful for her confidence.

Composing Pavo and working with Tara has been a uniquely positive and exhilarating experience. More than that, it’s been a distinct pleasure. I think we’ve created good art and I have made new friends along the way. This work is one of those pieces that, for me, pokes a little bit above the others in my catalog. It’s a piece that has stretched me as an artist and taught me how to be a more sensitive collaborator. I’m very appreciative of the opportunity given to me by the Atlanta Ballet and their Artistic Director, John McFall. It is a great honor to have been entrusted with creating a new work with Tara and this distinguished company. At this point, there is very little left to say, within the confines of this blog, about Pavo. Now, the rest will be said onstage.

Pavo premiere performances will take place on May 18, 19, and 20, 2012 in Atlanta, GA at the Alliance Theater, Woodruff Arts Center. Click HERE for more information. If you go to the performances, drop me a line here and let me know what you think!  

What's In A Name?

Fourth in a series on my collaboration with the Atlanta Ballet

So far in this series of blogs about my commission for the Atlanta Ballet and my collaborative work with choreographer  and dancer Tara Lee, I have focused broadly on how the project was started and how it has changed over the course of our working together. Yet, these are not usually the first things people ask about when they find out I am working with the Ballet. The most common questions I receive are, “What is the ballet about?” and “What is the name of the piece?”

Like everything else about the project, the name and concept have undergone several changes since Tara and I initially met months ago. Tara’s earliest idea was that of a continuum. We were not sure where this continuum began nor where it led. It was the barest of ideas. Through multiple conversations, the idea of continuum began to evolve. What if we were not talking about a linear continuum but rather a cyclic continuum? The idea of cycles began to take root. We even came up with a working title for the piece: revolve. It was still a nascent thought, however, until Tara presented a more concrete programmatic element.

The finished score!

One afternoon, while meeting at the ballet studios, Tara shared an article with me that had been posted on Facebook entitled, The Peacock Pose: Dance with Divinity by Catherine Ghosh. This article helped Tara form a more definite idea about the dramatic narrative of the work. The imagery of the peacock seemed to unify our amorphous concepts by incorporating three ideas from the mayurasana, or the so-called peacock pose in Yoga to our pre-existing notion of cycles. Tara was also inspired at this point by hearing samples of the music I had composed for certain sections of the piece. After hearing my sketches, thinking about cycles and reading Catherine Ghosh’s article, she proposed that we change the name of the piece from revolve to Pavo - the Latin word for peacock.

To quote Ms. Ghosh, from her article: “Overflowing with rich symbolism, the image of a peacock displaying its fan of feathers has been as cherished as a rising sun, a picture of the heavenly constellations in the sky, a hundred eyes and the wheel of immortality.” Throughout history, the image of the peacock has captivated many diverse cultures and religious traditions. Within my own faith tradition, I was well aware of the peacock’s depiction in Byzantine art as the soul and its beautiful, incorruptible status as well as the Orthodox Christian view of the peacock as an ancient symbol of the Resurrection: as he sheds his feathers, the peacock grows more brilliant ones than those he lost. I was thrilled with Tara’s concept and finally felt some solid ground beneath my compositional feet. It wasn’t long after Tara presented this idea to me that I completed the entire score.

Pavo is cast into five movements played without interruption. This seamless series of events is the remnant of our earliest concept of a continuum. First, the piece begins with a relatively slow and atmospheric introduction. This introduction leads directly into the second movement and the first aspect of the peacock pose we wish to highlight. The movement is entitled the poisons. The music and dance concern themselves with the peacock’s uncanny ability to digest snakes, poison and all. From this, we move directly to the third movement, the gathering storm. This movement plays with the imagery of the wonderful, restless dancing a peacock performs just prior to rainstorms. Having reached a very energetic and rhythmic high point, the music and dance abruptly shift gears and move directly into the climatic section of the piece: the fourth movement entitled transfigurations. Peacocks choose mates for life and as such have become a symbol of fidelity. In this movement, there are two ideas at play. First there is the aspect of faithfulness and strength. Secondly, there is the subtext of cycles remaining from our very earliest ideas about the piece. Now, however, we focus on the individual and the breaking out of personal cycles. These cycles can represent negative aspects of our lives (addictions, poor choices, bad habits, etc.) or the entire cycle of our lives. In either context, the individual has the ability to break negative cycles as well as transcend the earthly life cycle. Tara has conceived of an abstract narrative where one dancer represents the peacock and another an individual caught within a cycle. The peacock dances and absorbs the poison of negative cycles and in a lyric duet, helps to show a transfiguring pathway to the individual. Thus, this movement provides a context wherein the dancers are transfigured beyond the circle they began within. After this climatic dance, the music ends quietly with an atmospheric fifth movement: an epilogue. This music is a sort of retrograde of the ideas found in the introduction. Ultimately, we leave the listener with a question: will I choose to transcend my own cycle or remain within?

At long last, all the elements are set. We have a narrative, the score is complete, there is choreography, dancers have already started rehearsing with computer renditions of the piece and the musicians have their respective parts. Now we enter the eye of the hurricane and await the rehearsals with musicians and dancers, adding in set design and lighting along the way. I can hardly wait!

Coming Together

This month’s blog post is the third in a series of thoughts on my collaborative work with the Atlanta Ballet.

It has been three months and one very interesting ride since choreographer Tara Lee and I began work on a newly commissioned piece for the Atlanta Ballet. While a lot of music written in March is still being used in the piece, much has changed since our initial conversations back in February (see the first installment of this series). The overall concept of the piece has undergone a fairly significant transformation and with that change, the music and overall structure of the score has needed to adapt. Whole sections of music have found their way to the cutting room floor. Although sometimes a bit painful, I more or less expected this type of fluidity in the creative process. It’s different than the collaboration I had in composing the film score. That project presented a completed work that needed music added. Visuals, movements, dramatic narrative and the music for this ballet project, in contrast, are all being created simultaneously. Working with dancers and entering into their world has been a wonderful growing experience for me personally as a composer.

In past blog entries, I’ve commented on the importance of a good relationship between composer and choreographer. My initial thoughts on this have only been strengthened during this creative period. What I have found truly fascinating and quite wonderful to observe, however, is the collaborative nature between the choreographer and the dancers themselves. I’ve had the great fortune of attending a couple of rehearsals with Tara and her company and witnessed this working relationship first-hand.

I’ll admit that at first, I wasn’t paying much attention to the interaction between choreographer and dancers. Initially, I was simply overwhelmed by the movements set to my music. Somehow this was a completely different experience than hearing musicians bring a piece to life for the first time. Watching so much care and artistry applied to music I had created was truly humbling.

Once I got past this rush of excitement at seeing the ballet begin to take shape, I slowly became aware of how the dancers were working together and, in particular, how Tara was guiding the process. She had clearly arrived with definite ideas about choreography but did not rigidly impose these ideas upon the dancers. Instead, the rehearsals were full of give and take. In one beautiful sequence, two dancers featured in the slow, lyrical duet, came up with a set of movements almost by accident. These movements were an outgrowth of Tara’s overall form but perfectly fit a certain section of the music. Tara was quick to embrace the dancers’ contribution. What was truly amazing to me was watching the other dancers pick up on the movements with only one look. An entire sequence was magically created before my very eyes! Watching this creative process was an even more exhilarating experience for me than watching the first choreographed movements to my music when I first arrived.

As a result of the work done in these rehearsals, additional edits and changes to the score had to be made but, as of this writing, I believe the music for the piece is fairly set now. Tara will have another few days of rehearsals with her company to fine tune our adjustments and then it will be time begin putting all of this together. With a more or less final version of the score, my task at the moment is to properly engrave the music send parts off to the performers. Musical rehearsals are set to be begin in a few weeks!

We are still some distance from the destination, but the journey is quickening its pace. I’m sure I speak for all of my co-creators when I say that we are all growing more excited about our arrival!

Team Work

This month’s blog post is the second in a series of thoughts on my collaborative work with the Atlanta Ballet.

If I didn’t already know this, the past couple of projects have certainly reinforced the idea that composers must learn to be collaborators. In a past blog post, I reflected on my work on the soundtrack for a film and how my music needed to be subservient to not only the finished and (mostly) edited movie but to the director’s tastes, preferences and vision for the story. Now I find myself once again in a position where the music I compose is not the sole focus of a project. However, instead of fitting music to a more or less finished work, I now have the opportunity to co-create from the ground up, a piece for not only music but dance as well.

(L-R): Tara Lee, yours truly & Jennifer Mitchell at the
Atlanta Ballet studios.

A month ago, I had only had a few meetings with the choreographer of the Atlanta Ballet project, the wonderfully talented dancer and actress Tara Lee. These first few meetings were more or less “getting-to-know-you” affairs; choreographer and composer getting a feel for one another and ascertaining whether the necessary creative chemistry needed to collaborate on a new ballet piece was present.

Thankfully, things went well and we found ourselves quickly discussing details about the piece. As of mid-February, not a single note had been written but a lot of the important legwork had been accomplished: musicians had been secured, contracts all worked out and the basic structure of the piece had been developed.

So where do we stand now, a month into the process?

Armed with basic ideas about the piece, I entered into the familiar and lonely phase of the work: the creation of music. At a certain point all talk and planning became useless. Unless there was some actual music written, there would be nothing to choreograph. I have been able over the past several weeks, to compose roughly half of the music needed for the piece. However, the process of composing has been quite different than most of my past projects.

Having completed two major sections of the ballet, I sent off computer generated realizations of the music to Tara for her reaction. This was already non-standard practice for me. Normally, I prefer to compose by pencil on manuscript paper; completing an entire work before the notation process. However, the best way for Tara to get a handle on how I was thinking musically was to pause after each section, notate the music using computer software then create the aforementioned computer generated realizations.

After sending off the first audio file, I waited nervously for some – any – response. There had been a lot of talk, but now there was an actual product. I found myself very nervous – more so than usual – while waiting for a reaction. I was most relieved when Tara texted me with word that she liked my efforts. Breathing a sigh of relief, I continued on and created another section and sent a similar audio file. I thought this was going to be the way it was going to work: me sending music and Tara either green-lighting my efforts or needing to go back to the drawing board.

I was a bit unprepared for what came next. I got a call from Tara while shopping at Trader Joe’s one Saturday. She had been listening to the files and wondered if I could make changes. For one thing, the music wasn’t very “dancer-friendly.” With my penchant for odd meters and asymmetrical phrasing, I suppose I should have seen that one coming. What I wasn’t prepared for was the keen insight Tara had on the music and how a simple re-ordering of the sections – bringing some musical ideas out and eliminating others – greatly strengthened the piece. I don’t know that I would have thought to alter the music in the ways Tara suggested. Having complied with her requests, however, I can’t imagine the music going any other way now.

The instrumentation for this work is a bit unconventional, employing among other musicians, a D.J. spinning tracks live with a mixed chamber ensemble. Recently, I was finally able to get our D.J., Jennifer Mitchell, (a former student and wonderful composer in her own right) and Tara in the same room discussing the grooves that would be used in the piece. I am quickly discovering that this is not just a two-person collaboration between Tara and myself. This is a team effort incorporating the sizeable talents of Jen as well. In my score, I indicate the ideas for grooves (dubstep, drum&bass, etc.) but it is Jen who reads my score, hears my pitches and finds the exactly correct vinyl to spin. It’s uncanny how she has selected tracks that fit what I wrote like a glove. This is not karaoke composition. Rather, Jen is helping to form this piece as much as any of us.

I now have a much clearer vision of the piece and have set to work composing the rest of the music. The flurry of text messages, emails, phone calls and file sharing via DropBox is intensifying. I am exhilarated by this team effort and the truly collaborative nature of our work together. Tara, Jen and myself are all bringing our respective artistic visions to the table and in a wonderfully warm and creative exchange are creating a unified work. Soon the creative energies of the other musicians, stage designers and, of course, the dancers will be added to the collaborative mix. I’m sure the destination will be quite grand, but I have already gained much by the journey so far! 

Give & Take

This month’s blog post is the first in a series of thoughts on my collaborative work with the Atlanta Ballet.


Creativity is a very mysterious business. One moment there is nothing. The next, there is an idea. At first, it may be no more than a passing thought; an undefined form not yet clearly visible. And yet, something is suddenly there. I would like to think that as a composer, I have a wellspring of such ideas always simmering somewhere in the subconscious simply awaiting my command to rise up and become music. However, this is most often not how it works. The creative process for me is mostly an act of collaboration.

As I look over my catalog of works, I am hard pressed to find compositions that have not been written with some type of collaborator. Usually, I work with musicians. When a performer or conductor commissions a piece of music, I try to work closely with them; striving to balance my artistic and aesthetic desires with their creative ideas. It is the same when I find myself working with poets, scholars, visual artists and film directors on projects. I find it exhilarating to engage in the “give and take” of collaboration. Often, the result is the creation of a piece that I never would have thought up on my own.

Yours truly with dancer/choreographer/actress Tara Lee

All of this comes to mind as I embark on a new piece: a commission by the Atlanta Ballet. This commission marks the first time I’ve worked with dancers and, by necessity, a new type of collaborative process. The concept is relatively simple: build a musical composition from the ground up along side a choreographer who will be setting the music as it is created. And yet, there is nothing simple about it. How to begin? What is the ballet going to be about? Will it tell a story? What kind of music fits the expectations of the choreographer and the organization in general? What is the scope of the piece in terms of length, number of dancers and instrumentation? What is the overall budget for the production and how does that affect the size of the instrumentation? I’ve decided to try and share the answers to some of these questions by chronicling this project from its inception to completion within the modest confines of this blog.

In late 2011, I began an email dialogue with John McFall, the Artistic Director of the Atlanta Ballet. He spoke of the ballet’s upcoming May production entitled “New Choreographic Voices;” an evening of world premieres and arranged a meeting between myself and one of the choreographers for the production, Tara Lee. I was nervous about this initial meeting. Would Tara and I get along? What did she have in mind for her portion of the production? Fortunately, the meeting went well. I was immediately put at ease as we casually talked about music and dance and I felt that we had very similar tastes.

This first meeting was extremely important because it settled the issue of chemistry between the collaborators. With genuine artistic chemistry, the collaborative process becomes a joy. For my part, I knew as our conversation progressed that I would be able to have fun working with Tara; that I was in sync with her artistic sensibilities and increasingly felt that we would work well together. In many ways, once genuine collaboration is possible, the rest is simply details.

Yet, these details are substantive! After our first meeting, Tara checked out my website and other online sites (such as Reverb Nation and SoundCloud) where my music is available to stream. At our second meeting, she had some definite ideas about instrumentation based on some of the music she heard. Our collaboration had begun in earnest. Over the next few weeks, we met a few more times and exchanged text messages and emails. In the meantime, John McFall felt that things had progressed to a point where a formal commission for the May show could now be made. Still, more preliminary work needed to be done.

During our conversations (now primarily taking place at a coffee shop), Tara and I discussed subject matter for the piece, overall length and instrumentation. I was very interested in her initial idea – a notion of continuum; of time and changes within time. For her part, Tara seemed to be influenced by some of my works. She was drawn to pieces like “Citizens of Nowhere,” that featured the saxophone and “passing vanities” that featured a DJ along with live performers. Based on our conversations and Tara’s research into my catalog, we settled on a decidedly non-traditional quartet of musicians consisting of alto sax (doubling on soprano sax), cello, percussion and DJ.

Once we had decided on musicians, and importantly, John gave me word that the budget would support four live performers for the run of this production, I volunteered to secure the musicians. My immediate concern was the DJ. I turned to composer, performer and DJ, Jennifer Mitchell with whom I had collaborated with in the past. In writing the work, “passing vanities” for clarinet, violin and DJ (a commission from the professional Atlanta-based new music ensemble Sonic Generator), I had worked closely with Jen. It was she who really inspired my choices in recorded materials and score notation for a DJ. We had a meeting to discuss how we might collaborate and produce materials useful to Tara as she choreographed the production. 

After more text messages and emails Tara and I met again last week. This time, I was armed with a formal proposal; a written outline of many of the ideas we had freely discussed earlier as well as a plan for providing materials for her to use for choreographing the work. The piece was becoming more real now that there was something actually written down. After looking over the proposal and making her suggestions, we left with a fairly concrete plan. We knew the subject matter, overall length and basic structure of the work and had settled on the instrumentation along with an ensemble of at least five (perhaps six) dancers.

My task now will be to compose and provide computer-generated versions of the written music along with suggestions for grooves to Jen. She will then provide me with her selected recordings. I’ll mix my computer-generated score with Jen’s recordings for a good approximation of how the finished music will sound. Tara will then have a good model to use for the choreography. As I complete sections of the music, I also plan on attending some of the dance rehearsals once the choreography has been created. It is my hope that the dancing will inspire my composition of subsequent sections of the piece. The notion is that as the music feeds the choreography, the choreography will in turn feed the music so that the piece is truly built in a collaborative manner.

At one point, many weeks ago, there was nothing. Just an email. Now, there is an idea. However, it is more than just a passing thought or an undefined form – there is structure; there is a vision; and most importantly, there are relationships. There is a relationship with John, who initiated the project and ultimately gave it the green light. There is a relationship with Tara; a shared vision of music and dance. There is a relationship with Jen; a talented composer and musician who has already contributed wonderful ideas to this process. There are relationships with the other musicians, most of whom I have worked with in the past. Soon there will be more relationships: dancers, set designers, lighting designers, costumers and the input of many others.

It is humbling to think of all this as I sit scribbling my little notes on manuscript paper. In my next posting, I’ll report on how well we are following all our plans and how the piece is progressing. I hope you stick around for the journey and join us, if you are able, in Atlanta in May for the premiere!  

New Year’s Resolutions for Composers

In a recent posting on the wonderful blog of Orthodox Christian theology, Mystagogy, author John Sanidopoulos presents, without comment, a short quotation attributed to the 12^th Century Church Father, St. Peter of Damascus. On the topic of resolution, St. Peter writes, "If you want to do something good, do it; and if you cannot do it, then resolve to do it, and you will have achieved the resolution even if you do not fulfill the action itself. Thus a habit, whether good or bad, can gradually and spontaneously be overcome. If this were not the case, no criminals would ever be saved, whereas in fact not only have they been saved, but many have become conspicuous for their excellence. Think what a great gulf separates the criminal from the saint; yet resolution finally overcame habit." It’s that final line, "…resolution finally overcame habit" that I find so compelling. Perhaps, we all know this deep inside and this is the reason we dutifully make our resolutions over and over again, year after year. As I am apparently not immune to this desire, here are the top five New Year’s resolutions I have made for my own professional career:

1. Write Everyday

This is a mantra my students hear continually from my lips. It’s a notion that I heard from both of my principal teachers, Roger Hannay and Donald Erb. I remember Roger once asking what I was writing. Having just completed a piece (a Herculean task for an undergraduate and one that I thought merited high accolades), I off-handedly replied that I was “in-between” pieces at the moment. “Then you are not a composer right now” was his quick response. For some reason, this comment stuck with me. It was further bolstered by Donald Erb who continually asked me what I was working on, even long after I had graduated. Both of these great composers expected that I would be constantly writing, constantly embarking on new projects and constantly growing as a creative artist. For the most part, I practice what they preached in this area. I don’t literally, physically, sit in my studio each day without interruption – 365 days in succession – writing music. But I do come pretty close. And on those days that I am not actively writing – I am usually noodling in my head; rolling ideas around until they begin to take on an urgency that compels me to commit them to manuscript. My resolution in 2012 is to maintain this one good habit instilled in me by my teachers.

2. Feed the Aural Imagination

A good diet for composers!

One of the best ways to maintain an ambitious writing schedule is to have a deep reservoir of ideas. To create music that goes beyond mere craft, a composer must have a well-developed aural imagination. I’m a firm believer that for a composer – someone responsible for creating something literally out of nothing – this aural imagination is fed and maintained by active engagement in thought-provoking and inspiring activities. Of course, the first activity is that of music itself. It’s important to listen to recordings and, preferably, attend live performances of as much music as possible. However, feeding the aural imagination goes well beyond just music. I believe a composer needs to be exposed to great visual art, to dance, to theatre and great literature. Composers should grapple with great ideas – secular and sacred. Engaging in and thinking about art, philosophy, politics, literature, religion among other disciplines feeds the creative spirit. This is an area where I have lagged in recent years. I’ve read too few books, attended too few art galleries and far too few concerts. My resolution in 2012 is to correct this undesirable trait.

3. Take Advantage of Opportunities

The idea that a composer would not take advantage of an opportunity seems ridiculous. Yet, how often I have let deadlines for score calls and similar opportunities pass me by. How many times I have not immediately followed up with a performer or ensemble that I met in some professional or social setting. I could fall back upon the well-worn excuse of not having the time. For me, this is no excuse. Rather, it is a cop-out. In 2012, I need to do a much better job of following leads, applying for grants, fellowships and commissions and submitting to as many eligible (and affordable) score calls and competitions as I can. I need to continually remind myself of something I stress to my students: composing music is my work. I have many other important obligations, but it is critical for the composer to distinguish between professional obligations and true work. I should not compose after my "work” is completed. I need to fulfill my obligations to the best of my ability so I can get back to my work; to writing music and taking advantage of all opportunities to write more music. 

4. Use Social Media

In 2011, I finally launched a new professional website. I also began to participate more fully in several social media outlets including the ubiquitous Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn and the new kid on the block, Google+. I was diligent about maintaining this blog and also set up pages on ReverbNation and SoundCloud where my music can be streamed. Furthermore, I got my 2007 chamber music recording, Aegean Counterpoint, up on iTunes and Amazon.mp3. And still, I am way behind in the new frontier of social media and Internet marketing. I’m a firm believer that composers must promote themselves. We don’t often have professional representation and print publishing opportunities are vanishing faster than smoke in a wind tunnel. In 2011, I realized that sites like Facebook were not just about posting pictures of pets and alerting the world to scores in online games. Social media is a serious force that can be used to do what publishers and agents used to do for composers: get composers noticed, commissioned and performed. Good examples of rethinking about social media and online marketing can be found in two recently posted articles. The first, written by Gerrit Hall on the technology site, Mashable, is entitled “Facebook Timeline Is Basically Your Digital Resume.” The second article, written by Michael Wolf on the technology site, GigaOM, is entitled “Why 2012 Will Be the Year of the Artist-Entrepreneur.” Both are fascinating articles and speak to my point that composers need to begin to harness the great potential the Internet offers. However, to do so takes diligence and some sacrifice of time. I believe it is time well spent and resolve in 2012 to make even better use of this tremendous resource.

5. Give Back

Yours truly with the Fall 2011 GSU Student Composers.

In addition to writing everyday, feeding my aural imagination, taking advantage of all opportunities and effectively using social media, it is important for me to remember to give back to my profession as much as I can. First and foremost, this means being a good composition teacher. This is no small task – especially given the fact that I stand in the overwhelming shadow of truly great composers and teachers. I am indebted in ways that cannot be expressed in mere words to these teachers. The only way I know to properly pay them back for all they have given me is to try, as best I can, to do the same for my students. My 2012 resolution is to be more patient and understanding and to be more engaged in my pupils’ work and careers. I resolve to remember that it’s a tough business we’re in and everyone needs as much help as they can get. Moreover, I resolve to be a better colleague to my fellow “professional” composers and performers. After all, if we don’t look out for each other, who will?

So there is my list. Hopefully one or two of these resolutions will take root and will overcome some undesirable habits. What’s on your list for 2012? Leave me a comment and let’s talk!